Erotique
by Richonne
Summary: Rick's a young cop, on his way home from transporting a prisoner, when his car breaks down outside of a strip club where a very beautiful stripper is working on a dull Wednesday night.


Based loosely on this prompt: Imagine person B of your OTP is a stripper and person A got dragged to the club by their friends and whatever happens…

_**Rick Grimes could recognize the feel**_ of a tire on its last legs, and the back passenger side tire of his Crown Victoria was gonna pop at any second. He slowed down, hoping to coax a few more miles out of her until he could reach one of the all night gas stations along the road he usually traveled when he had to take prisoners to Atlanta for processing. Going from fifty miles per hour to thirty just wasn't enough, though, and the car began to shimmy and shake.

"Shit," he said, and pulled over.

It was bad enough that a rain system was blowing through and he'd had to deal with rain the past three straight days. Now he was broke down in it and he was in a remote enough area that he had no cell phone reception. In the distance, perhaps half a mile, he could see the familiar pink neon glow of a strip club he passed on every trip. It was called Erotique. He'd never been inclined to go inside, even on the few occasions he'd had to come out and grab a man or two who'd gotten too rowdy. He could have had worse luck than getting stranded near a strip club. At least he could get out of the rain, and chat with the owner, a man he was friendly with whenever they had occasion to interact.

Of course he'd left his umbrella at the office. Rick put on his hat, shrugged into his jacket, and then locked the car up before trudging through the downpour toward the club. When he arrived it was to see that the parking lot was nearly empty. Only three cars, plus Tyler Barnes' brand new pickup, occupied the small lot.

Inside the place smelled of whiskey and cigars. There were six patrons, all African-American. Rick knew the place not to be frequented by whites very often, and he felt a little self-conscious being the only white man, and the only cop, in the place.

"Rick!" Tyler said cheerfully from behind the bar. He was a massive black man with a bald pate and hands the size of Virginia hams. "Come on it, have a seat."

"Thanks, Tyler," Rick said, going up to the bar.

"What brings you in here on a Wednesday night?"

"Coming home from transporting a prisoner to Atlanta," he explained. "Tire blew out."

"Mack's wife is having a baby. His tow shop is all closed up for the night. I could call a cab but that'll cost you a pretty penny to get home. You off duty?"

"Yeah."

"Have a beer, on the house. Name your poison."

"Miller."

Tyler grabbed a mug and began to fill it. Rick took a deep pull and thought about calling Lori, but he didn't want to drag her out so late on a school night when he knew she was studying for mid-terms at the junior college.

"I got an empty room out back," Tyler offered.

"How much?"

"$45 a night."

"I'll take it."

He turned to the stage as the music changed and a woman came out dressed in red leather with cute little devil horns on her head. Rick stopped, the mug half way to his mouth, as he took in the sight of the beautiful young woman who sauntered onto the stage.

"She goes by Viper," Tyler said, seeing the look on interest on Rick's face.

"Viper?"

"Mmm-hmmm. She's always got some kind of naughty costume on when she comes out. She's my best girl."

"If she's your best then what's she doing here on a Wednesday night?"

"She's putting herself through college."

Rick snorted. How man times had he heard that?

"No, seriously. Girl is a hard worker. She's gonna be a lawyer someday. I hope she makes it, too."

The music was some modernized nod to seventies disco. The lyrics spoke of sex and sweat, and she moved her body to the words as well as the beat, bringing the song alive, visually. The men moved forward, closer to the stage, eager to tuck bills into her garter.

Rick admired the strength in her thighs, the roundness of her ass, and the heavy-lidded, almost sleepy quality to her gaze as she turned to the pole and slowly swung her ass around in a semicircle before stopping to shake it.

"Give me ten," Rick said, pulling a ten dollar bill out of his wallet. Tyler chuckled and handed Rick ten ones in its place.

She danced to three songs. By the time she was finished all she had left to wear was the garter, stuffed with money, and a saucy smile. Rick's blood was pumping and he was about to start his second beer when she left the stage to disappointed moans. His were loudest of all.

_Viper_, Rick thought. _Who is she really?_

One a.m. rolled around and Tyler closed down for the night. Rick took his room key and started out into the rain to head toward one of the ten rooms Tyler rented out for travelers, ostensibly, but Rick suspected it was used by the dancers who had a side business in prostitution. He couldn't confirm that, and he wasn't going to press the issue, especially tonight.

He stopped a moment and turned his head to the sky, letting the cold rain splash over his face. His had slipped off and when he went to pick it up, he was surprised to see the dancer he'd spent ten dollars on picking it up for him.

"You're new," she said, handing him back his hat.

"And you're very talented," he offered in return.

She smiled and nodded toward his room. "You staying tonight?"

"Yeah. Car broke down. Would you like to come in?"

She cocked an eyebrow at the invitation.

"I mean, for a beer or something. Just a beer," he said awkwardly.

After a moment of looking him over she shrugged. "Sure."

"Great. I'll go get some beer then," he said, making her laugh. He handed her the key. "I'm in room five."

He returned a few minutes later with a six pack that he'd gotten from Tyler on an IOU. His shirt was soaked to the skin and so was hers. She'd taken her jacket off to dry and was patting a towel on her nearly bald pate when he came in.

He took a seat on the bed next to her and opened a beer for himself. They drank half in silence before she spoke.

"You didn't really invite me in just for a beer, did you?" she asked.

"Of course. I'm an officer of the law. I can't proposition a…um…"

"A what?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"A…woman?" he finished lamely.

"I'm a dancer, not a whore," she said, and gulped more beer.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you," he said quickly. "Um...Tyler says you're going to school to be a lawyer."

She nodded. "Yeah. Most people think that's bullshit. I suppose it is for a lot of dancers, but in my case, I really am working my way through law school. This job pays well."

"Rick."

"Michonne," she said, giving him her name. "I have to tell you, Rick, I didn't come in here for the beer."

"Oh."

He figured she hadn't. He hadn't wanted her in his room for a drinking partner, but now that he had her, he was having second thoughts. He and Lori had just started seriously dating and things were going well. He'd invited this woman in spur of the moment but-

All thoughts ceased when her hand came to rest on his dick. She began to rub, putting just the right amount of pressure and friction into it. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the reasons why this was wrong but he couldn't. It felt too damned good.

He put his beer down, took hers, and set it next to his on the nightstand. "You sure about this?"

"Very sure," she said. She wanted to suckle that beautifully plump bottom lip of his, and that's what she did as Rick pulled her onto his lap.

"Then let's do this.

_**The rain beat against the window**_ like a thief determined to break in. Rick couldn't care less. He was balls deep in one of the sexiest women he'd ever met. She straddled him, her hips pistoning fast as she rode him hard. He watched her face in the dim light from the bathroom. She was in a state of ecstasy as she moved up, and then down, on his hardened length. Each move of her hips brought a ripple of pleasure that tightened in her core, taking her closer to release.

Rick pulled Michonne to him in a bruising kiss and then flipped her onto her back where he set up a rhythm of his own. He was close, and he could sense she was as well. He thrust hard, pounding into her moist, giving flesh, pushing himself, and her, to the edge. He felt her nails at his back. Though she didn't scratch, she dug in, adding a tiny bit of pain to the pleasure building within him. Unable to hold back another second, Rick came, explosively, crying out as he found release in time with Michonne.

"_**Am I gonna see you again?"**_ he asked as he watched her get dressed.

"Probably not," she said. "This is my last night. I just haven't told Tyler yet. I've got a job in Atlanta, where I go to school."

"Dancing?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"I enjoyed tonight," he said.

She smiled at him. "So did I."

She continued to gaze at him, as though she wanted to ask him something. Perhaps for his phone number.

"Are you married?" he asked.

"No. You?"

He shook his head. "Seeing someone."

"That's why it's not a good idea to exchange numbers," Michonne said.

"Yeah, I guess not," he agreed.

Still, the idea of having only one night with her and then never seeing her again bothered Rick. He'd felt a connection with her that ran deeper than sex, but he didn't think she felt the same way.

"Good luck on becoming a lawyer," he said.

"Good luck on becoming Chief of Police someday," she offered, and then started for the door.

"Michonne?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope this isn't the last time I see you."

She winked at him and opened the door. "I have a feeling it won't be."

She closed the door, leaving him alone in his room, in the bed that still smelled of her perfume, and of her body. Rick drifted off to sleep, thinking that this was going to be one of those memories that would creep up from time to time, years from now, when he was old and gray. It would be a memory that would make him smile.


End file.
